Shut Up And Dance
by ToucheDetective
Summary: 'Her breath skitters across his ear when she speaks, "Don't you dare look back. Just keep your eyes on me." Goose bumps race down his neck at the sound of her voice. It's smoky and commanding and completely out of place in a public setting. And he wants to hear it again and again.' Pre-series AU. Rated T for now.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I did this as a writing exercise on tumblr last year but I'm putting it here now because I'm going to attempt to expand it. Set before/around Season 1? Rated T for now but that could change. This is my first AU, be gentle._

* * *

He doesn't know how it happens but one minute he's at the bar about to get a drink and the next he's being dragged by his arm onto the dance floor by a tall woman with considerable strength. All he can see is short dark hair, a backless dress that takes all the air out of his lungs, and…beat up old sneakers? Ok, he's more than a little intrigued. He was desperate to find some inspiration, going so far as to Google the word which is how he found a club named just that, but he didn't expect it to grab him by the hand.

Once they're lost in the crowd, she spins around to face him but before he can get a good look at her they're cheek to cheek, bodies close but not quite touching. She angles his head, peering over his shoulder like she's hiding from someone.

"Uh…Hi?" He turns his head, looking over his own shoulder, trying to figure out where she came from or to get some clue as to what the hell is going on but her long fingers rasp against the stubble on his jaw, pulling his cheek back to hers before he can see anything.

Her breath skitters across his ear when she speaks, "Don't you dare look back. Just keep your eyes on me."

Goose bumps race down his neck at the sound of her voice. It's smoky and commanding and completely out of place in a public setting. And he wants to hear it again and again.

He can't help it when his palms automatically settle on the flair of her hips in that sinfully small dress, hands spanning almost the entirety of her waist causing his fingers to rest on the bare skin of her back, her muscles jumping at his touch. She leans back, presumably to give him a look but her eyes, the color elusive in the dim lighting, dart around the room before she focuses her attention on him, her plump red lip caught between her teeth.

 _Gorgeous._

She takes him in and her eyes go wide, an expression he can't read and shit - did he say that out loud? They both stand there frozen on the spot, staring at each other with their mouths hanging open until she snaps out of it, something drawing her focus towards the back of the club.

Keep his eyes on her. He can do that. He can definitely do – wait, is she talking to him or herself? Before he can ask she's touching her ear and ducking into his chest like she's shielding herself from view.

"Where the hell are you guys?!"

Realization dawns on him and he sucks in a breath. "Oh my God! Are you..." He jerks his head, remembers he's not supposed to look around. "Are you undercover?" he whispers as low as he can over the pounding beat, the glee in his voice unmistakable.

His imagination kicks into overdrive, coming up with all kinds of crazy scenarios to explain why an alluring woman with an earpiece is using him as cover all the while wearing shoes that look way too big.

"Shut up and dance with me!"

He wanted inspiration. Looks like it found him.

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 _Comments/suggestions are always welcome. (Especially this time since I'm not totally sure where this is headed.)_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: I'm trying something new with this. It's called not stressing over things for months before updating. ;) It's not as polished as I would like but hey, I'm writing!_

* * *

Her arms twine around his neck as she starts moving to the music, the distance between them almost comical, reminiscent of a middle school dance. At least this way he can get a better look at her; her eyes drawing his attention the most, sharp and focused but with an undertone of melancholy. Almost haunted. He's suddenly struck with an intense need to know her story.

She curses under her breath at something, probably a bad guy or two and he desperately wants to look behind him, needing the visual to color the story already unfolding in his head, but that might blow their cover. He's on an undercover mission! This is way cooler than anything he could have hoped for when he decided to go out tonight.

After a few feet and some tugging on her part, he realizes she's subtly leading them towards the side of the club where there's a hallway leading to the bathroom and once they get close enough to it, she finally looks at him again.

"I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else. Thanks for the…dance." She looks around one last time and starts for the unisex bathroom but he grabs her arm, realizing this is his last chance to learn anything more about her.

"Wait, is there anything I can do to help?"

"No, thank-" Before she can finish, something she sees makes her quickly duck into the bathroom.

He hesitates. Following a woman into the restroom isn't something he'd ever imagined he'd do, but she's obviously not in there to use it. And why the sneakers? What is going on? In the end, his curiosity gets the better of him and he slips in after her.

And he's immediately met with the barrel of a gun. Okay, probably not the best idea.

She lets out an exasperated exhale and lowers her weapon. "What are you doing in here?!"

"I want to help. What can I do? Who were you trying to hide from? And why are you wearing huge shoes?"

"Do you always ask this many questions?"

He realizes there's one question he wants to know above all others. "What's your name?"

She sighs. "Officer Beckett."

"I knew it! You _are_ undercover!"

"Yes, I am. And I'd like to stay that way so shut up, turn the lock, and stay over there, got it?"

"Good idea." He does as he's told while she finishes clearing the stalls. "If anyone saw us come in together, they'll just think we're having sex," he says, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

He has to admit the eyeroll he receives is pretty impressive.

"I don't have time for this," she mutters to herself.

"How about next Saturday?"

Her glare is so intense it actually scares him a bit so he puts his hands up in surrender. "Kidding, kidding…mostly."

He doesn't feel like getting hurt, which she's probably more than capable of doing, especially considering she's holding a gun, so he asks the very next question that pops into his head in order to change the subject.

"Where was the gun?" Okay, maybe he should have thought about that one first.

"You know exactly where it was; somewhere you're never going to be," the unspoken 'jackass' implied by her tone.

It was an innocent question - okay, no it wasn't, but he didn't mean to offend her with it. "I'm sorry, I'm usually more wiseass than jackass."

She seems to relax somewhat at his apology.

"It could've been in your shoes." His humor has the intended effect and her lips quirk up on one side even though she tries to hide it.

"Yeah, well, you're not getting into those either."

"I don't know, they're almost big enough." The grin overtakes her face as she shakes her head at him, something familiar in her smile. Beautiful.

"Have we met?" He's pretty sure he'd remember her. He doesn't know any cops, at least not like her, but he can't shake the feeling.

She pauses, opens her mouth to answer but suddenly holds up a finger to silence him. "I'm here. What the hell took you so long?" she says, presumably to whoever is on the other end of her earpiece.

"I lost O'Connell. One of Fratelli's men is unconscious in a closet in the offices. Don't know how long until he wakes up. Are you guys in position yet?"

His mind starts spinning again, trying to put the pieces together as he listens to half a conversation. Fratelli is obviously the bad guy, but what are they trying to pin him for? Who's O'Connell? One of her team? Is that who she mistook him for earlier when she used him as a human shield?

"What? No! You can't call it off! I've almost figured it out. Just give me 5 more minutes."

She starts scanning the room, looking for who knows what, cursing when she sees the small, high window with bars.

"What are we looking for?"

" _I_ am looking for a concealed room or a surreptitious way out of here. _You_ are distracting me."

"That is so cool! It's like Harry Potter!"

She looks at him like he's nuts.

"Secret chamber in the bathroom!"

She rounds on him. "Mr. Castle, people are being taken from here against their will for god knows what, never to be heard from again and you think this is 'cool'?"

His face falls. "That's- I didn't know. I'm sorry." More questions flood his mind but he almost doesn't want to know the answers.

"Listen, I've got until that goon in the closet wakes up to find unequivocal proof that this is happening here so could you please stop talking and make yourself useful?"

"Of course. Walk the scene?"

"How did you…"

"I'm a writer." He expects questions about his work or an incredulous look at the very least but she only nods absentmindedly, seemingly unfazed by his profession. Well, that's a first.

Wasting no time, she jumps right in. "Okay, so, I'm a club patron in need of the bathroom…"

"And I'm the bad guy."

She raises an eyebrow at him and tries not to laugh. Apparently 'bad guy' is not the right term. She also needs to stop biting her lip so he can _focus_.

"The last stall is out of order, so I'd have to use one of the first few," she says as she walks over to the first one and he stands over in the corner, waiting for his part.

Studying the scene, he shakes his head. "Too many variables. If I'm trying to catch someone, I'd want to know _exactly_ where they'll be. Set a trap."

"I'd need to wash my hands next."

"But the first two sinks are broken."

"So I'd have to use the last one." She walks up to it and turns on the water.

Given that there's no mirror in front of the last two sinks and taking into account the sound of the water, someone could easily sneak up behind her, which he demonstrates. He can't help but admire the view, the large expanse of her back exposed, but it's her neck that draws his attention, makes him want to press his lips against it and-

 _Focus_.

The attacker would most likely come from the stall closest to the sink. She must have come to the same conclusion because they both converge on the out of order stall at the same time.

He gestures for her to lead the way. "Ladies first."

" _Cops_ first," she corrects, entering and immediately inspecting the plumbing.

"Look for a switch or lever or something."

"I _know_."

Her hands abandon the pipes and start running over the wall, searching for an opening. "Found it!"

One of the grungy little tiles covering the back wall gives way under the press of her finger and the whole thing, toilet and all, swings back into a hidden room. She has to shush him because he can barely contain his squeal of delight. Undercover missions, secret passageways, not to mention a stunning woman with an expansive vocabulary - who's a _cop_ – best club ever! And he hasn't even had one drink!

"Just," she puts out her hand, "stay here."

That works for about ten seconds, during which his mind runs over everything she's said, trying to remember it all for when he can finally write it down, until he realizes she had called him by his name earlier.

He never gave her his name.

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 _A/N:_ _Comments/suggestions/thoughts are always appreciated!_


End file.
